


Lightning is my Crown, and Thunder my Mantle

by Maewn



Series: A Hope Rekindled [4]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen, Hylian Sign Language, NB Link, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: Walking the open corridors of Vah Naboris feels almost like walking back in time.The desert looks the same, the same hot air drifting through the skylights, and Link half expects to hear Urbosa’s voice calling to them, asking them why they are not accompanying Zelda on some adventure.
Series: A Hope Rekindled [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1457548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Lightning is my Crown, and Thunder my Mantle

Walking the open corridors of Vah Naboris feels almost like walking back in time.

The desert looks the same, the same hot air drifting through the skylights, and Link half expects to hear Urbosa’s voice calling to them, asking them why they are not accompanying Zelda on some adventure.

But Urbosa’s spirit is present here in a way that the other champions had not been. Even Mipha, whom Link had known since childhood, was not so... _alive_ within the towering stone walls of Vah Naboris.

Link can feel Urbosa’s emotions, how she had fought with every fiber of her being against the corruption that had captured Naboris all those years ago, the vengeance that thrummed within her soul as Link advances through the Divine Beast.

It is nice to hear her voice again, warm and cheerful despite her death.

_It is good to see that you live,_ Urbosa tells them as they climb down from one of the terminals. _And that you’ve freed the others as well._

_I’m sorry I took so long,_ Link says.

_It does not matter,_ Urbosa says, _You have returned and you will slay this foul spirit that has claimed the jewel of the desert as its own._

Link smiles at the words.

_You will have me to guide you after all,_ Urbosa continues, and Link can hear the smile in her voice, _how could you not win?_

* * *

The rage that Link feels when Thunderblight Ganon uses Urbosa’s own power against them, hazes their vision for a moment, as they shift their stance.

_Calm, little vai’ii,_ Urbosa cautions, _it wants you to be rash. To not think about your strikes. How about we give it a little taste of the lightning that it does not deserve to wield?_

The idea makes Link chuckle despite the situation. _Sounds perfect,_ they answer and grab one of the metal stakes and hurling at the blight’s head.

It connects with a satisfying clunk, and the blight drops to the ground, shaking as electricity jolts through it.

_Excellent,_ Urbosa cackles.

Link probably enjoys whacking the blight in the head a bit more than they should but at last it is defeated, vanishing into the ether with a shriek.

_Well done,_ Urbosa says, and she stands before them again, tall and beautiful, surrounded by the soft glow that all spirits have.

‘I could not have done it without you,’ Link signs.

Urbosa smiles, _Perhaps. You are stronger than you know, little vai’ii._

* * *

It is late in the afternoon when Link heads out, finding a nearby sand-seal and hitching a ride back to town. The sky is darkening, a sure sign of a sandstorm, and Link winces, hoping to the Gods that they can get back to town before the storm hits.

They do, in the end, make it back, the gate guards sealing the city doors behind them, warding out most of the sand.

They duck under an awning marked with the symbol of the crescent moon, wincing at the sandstorm screaming past like some demon of Ganon’s army.

They pound on the inn door, praying to the Goddess that someone will hear. Their voice is ever trapped within their throat, rarely ever given free.

Link doesn’t even think anyone living, other than Zelda, even remembers the sound of their voice.

The door gives way, and Link, caught by surprise, tumbles through. Warm hands catch their shoulders, spinning them round as the door slams shut again.

Link stares into the face of a woman with gleaming golden eyes, hair the color of sunshrooms, and an amused grin on her face. She is _beautiful._

“What’s a delicate little _vai_ like you doing out on a night like this?” she asks and her voice is deep, a rich sound that makes Link flush.

‘ _vai’ii’_ Link corrects, and the woman nods acceptance.

“And a delicate vai’ii such as yourself is out on a night like this because?” she asks, eyes still sparkling with amusement.

‘I made it into the city just as the storm came,’ Link says, signing quickly. ‘Thank you for letting me inside.’

“It would be a shame if one so pretty as you were to be lost to the sands,” the woman says, smiling. “You must have traveled quite far.”

‘From Goron City, originally,’ Link says. ‘I am here to speak with Chief Riju.’

The woman’s eyes widen, “That is a long distance indeed for so tiny a young one,” she says. “Come and sit, you must be tired. The Chief will not see anyone until morning, at any rate.”

‘Thank you,’ Link signs and lets her guide them to a table just at the edge of the bar.

The woman, Link comes to find, is Mela, one of the many City Guards that often patrol the walls.

She is a kind, bright-eyed woman who enjoys hearing of Link’s travels. Link doesn’t think they’ve talked for so long with anyone save Zelda or Urbosa; their hands are starting to become weary.

Mela notices this, and she reaches out, stilling the words with one of her hands. “Let’s get you to a warm bed, little _vai’_ _ii_ _,”_ she says, smiling. “We can talk more in the morning if you wish.”

The bed as it turns out, is Mela’s own, as there is no other room available in the inn.

“Most run for their own homes or here,” she explains as she closes the door behind them. “So beds are in short supply during the sandstorm season.”

‘I don’t mind,’ Link says, flushing.

Mela studies them, nodding to herself, “There is room enough in my bed for you, little _vai’_ _ii_ _._ Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Link _giggles,_ the sound bubbling out of them, and it surprises them, almost frightens them with its sound.

Mela’s smile turns sad. “Oh, little _vai’_ _ii_ _,_ you have perhaps been alone too long if your own laughter frightens you so.”

She reaches out, pulling them into an embrace that Link accepts, relaxing against her. Mela is warm as desert sand, and she smells like saffina, sharp and electric.

That night, Link doesn’t dream at all.

The next morning, the howl of the sandstorm still rattles past the shuttered windows.

“There will be no guard duty in this storm,” Mela says, frowning at the window, her bright eyes worried. She idly runs a hand through Link’s hair, and Link hums.

“Ah, _savaq’sava,_ little _vai’_ _ii_ _,”_ Mela says, looking down at them, curled up beside her and buried under a thick blanket. The desert is cold at night after all, and the fires in the inn’s hearth only does so much to warm the rooms.

‘Savaq’sava,’ Link says, fingers sluggish.

The morning is spent talking, as no one would be out running errands or petitions in such weather, and the news that Link has to share with Chief Riju can wait. No doubt she had already seen how Vah Naboris had calmed and now stood sentinel over the desert once more.

Eventually, the discussion shifts to weapons and maintenance as Mela sharpens her swords daily, prepared for anything that might appear on guard duty.

Link waits until she is absorbed in her work before starting maintenance on their own sword. They carefully inspect the blade, sharpening the edges before setting to work on the hilt.

“My grandmother’s mother,” Mela says quietly after some time, and Link can feel the weight of her gaze upon their hands as they rub oil into the leather of the hilt of the Master Sword, “once spoke of a young champion who accompanied the Princess Zelda when she visited the Lady Urbosa. That champion carried a sword of legend, emblazoned with the sign of the Old Ones, and the Goddess Hylia. The sword, my mother always told me, was forged by Her Grace in the time before Her people came to this world from their home in the skies. The sword was forged with a spirit within it, who would guide Hylia’s chosen hero in times of strife.”

‘It is a very old story,’ Link says, closing their eyes, feeling the sudden weight of every one of the years that they have slept.

“It is,” Mela agrees. “Each hero that my mother told me of, bore such a heavy destiny upon their shoulders. It is alright, little _vai’ii,_ if you must ask for help. There is no shame in that.”

‘I know,’ Link says, and their fingers tremble at the words. ‘But once there were five of us, and even with Princess Zelda, we failed to protect our kingdom,’ they open their eyes, finding Mela’s own warm gaze meeting theirs. ‘What if I fail again?’

“The four Divine beasts stand once more at your side, bound by friendship and trust, and the Princess still fights from what we hear,” Mela says. “All that is evil in the world must be defeated one day, and I have faith that we will see the end of Ganon’s evil soon enough.”

Link sheathes the Master Sword, tracing the symbol upon the sheath with trembling fingers.

‘I hope so,’ they say.

“I believe that the Goddess will guide your hand, little _vai’ii.”_ Mela says, smiling at them. “Trust in Her choice.”


End file.
